


A marriage of Inconvenience

by sianii, tipitina



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Boys Being Boys, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Inception Reverse Big Bang Challenge, M/M, Mutual Pining, ariadne gets a girlfriend, housearrest is a very sensible idea, inception needs more women
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 07:17:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2613062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sianii/pseuds/sianii, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tipitina/pseuds/tipitina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is part of Dom and Mal's team of gladiators, a firm to keep scandal away from the rich and powerful. Saito is one of their top clients, mostly because of his step-son's escapades. When Eames brings another possible scandal home, Dom has the very sensible idea to make Eames a respectable man. At least for the time being, and even in America a gay married man is better than a single one. Timing isn't on Arthur's side when he's the only possible candidate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A marriage of Inconvenience

When Arthur first met Eames, Arthur was 28 and had already achieved quite something in his life. For sure more than anyone from the neighborhood he’d come from and a lot more than any of his middle school teachers would have expected. When Arthur first met Eames, Eames had just turned 30 a couple of months ago and he was rich, lazy and, most importantly, sulking.

Arthur had entered the office his bosses and friends, Dom and Mal, were renting on his first late night call doing the job. He had been a little excited finally getting to see a PR emergency going down. Sure, it would be nothing compared to the thrill of hunting down a murderer or being front line in a drug bust, the kind of kick he was used to as a NYPD detective, but Arthur thrived on experiencing new things.

So walking in on the tense silence between Takeo Saito, head of Saito International, and his son was quite an awkward let down. Saito was seated at the table in their conference room, while his son was simply leaning against a window, legs casually crossed at the ankles and hands stuffed into his pockets.

If Dom hadn’t told him that this was about Saito and his son and if Arthur weren’t always trying to meet a new client prepared, Arthur wouldn’t have guessed that they belonged to the same family. Saito was the perfect image of a reserved, well educated mid fifties Japanese business man, with his well groomed appearance and his sharp and alert posture. His son on the other hand was Caucasian and looked like the mixture between a wrestler, porn star and sleazy criminal despite his three thousand dollar suit.

The only indication of the younger man being the son and not the bodyguard was his downward turned gaze and the little pout, that made him look rather like a brooding teenager who was about to start whining that the world hated him and life was just so unfair.

Neither of the men looked at Arthur upon his entrance and so Arthur cleared his throat before putting on his most professional and polite smile.

“Mr. Saito. Mr. Saito Jr.” Arthur expanded his hand towards Saito while giving his son a curt nod before focusing back on the main client. “My name is Arthur Levine and I am the firm’s private investigator. Has Mr. Cobb already spoken to you? I came as fast as I could.”

Saito stood up and gave him a firm handshake. “He has. Mr. Cobb just stepped outside to take a call. I am grateful for you to come in so late.” Saito had a pleasant voice, calm and with just the slightest hint of an accent. He also didn’t sound grateful. More like he was acknowledging that Arthur had performed a service the way he was expected to. Arthur decided to let that go, nodding.

It was then that his gaze drifted back to Saito’s son. He had stopped sulking. In fact he was grinning. Not with showing all this teeth, simply smirking at Arthur in a very unsettling, if attractive way.

“Can I help you, Mr. Saito Jr.?” Arthur couldn’t help but ask a little challengingly, his eyebrows shooting up on their own accord.

“Please, darling. I am positive we’ll be seeing quite a bit of each other. Call me Eames.” Eames’s accent was as similar to his father’s as his appearance was. Just as soft but so very British it nearly sounded put on. In that moment Arthur couldn’t even decide by what to be thrown most: the endearment, the innuendo or the name that hadn’t popped up in his quick research.

Always trying to look as professional as possible no matter how lost he felt, Arthur simply nodded in acknowledgment. The way Eames chuckled in return let Arthur know that Eames was looking through him. It pissed Arthur off and confused him in equal parts and he made a quick but swift escape, stating he would see where Mal and the rest of the staff were to start the meeting.

“Don’t be too long, darling,” Eames called after him and in the reflection of the glass door Arthur could see that Eames had apparently giving up on sulking and had instead made himself comfortable in one of the chairs winking at his father, who was simply shaking his head before taking his phone out.

When he met Mal and Jean in the latters’ office he had already formed an opinion on Eames, despite his vow not to do that to clients. In Arthur’s book, Eames was a rich fucking kid, who had never had a financial care in the world, who had never had to work for shit like Arthur had, and who was now causing problems because he didn’t have any that weren’t of his own making. Arrogant. Entitled. Careless. Self-centered. God, it had been less than five minutes and Arthur loathed him.

 

 

That had been four years ago and Eames had made good on his promise that they would be seeing a lot more of each other.

***

It was that and all that had followed that had Arthur doubting his own sanity, not being able to logically understand how they could possibly be having this conversation right now.

Another late night meeting in the same conference room, the same view, only altered slightly by a new sky scraper in the distance and with different interior, changed with the rising success of the firm. Arthur was seated beside Ariadne in a comfortable if simplistic leather chair, her left hand resting calmingly on his right thigh, as if trying to stop him from jumping out of the chair and lounging across the table. He wasn’t sure whom she wanted to save from his wrath. There were a couple of possible targets to choose from in that moment.

Just as the office hadn’t changed much, neither had the people present. Ariadne was the only addition to the group.

“And you can assure me that this will work, Cobb?” Saito was asking right then. He was seated in the same spot, he had been in when Arthur had met him all those years ago, head of the table and he was looking at Dom intently. Cobb just jerked his head in acknowledgment while he continued pacing the room, exchanging glances with Mal from time to time who was leaning against the window this time. It was her who answered.

“I agree with Dom’s assessment of the situation and his solution. We have to find a way to make these accusations sound as improbable as possible. That Eames is, well how would you say that…?”

“Out and proud?” Jean threw in, eyebrows raised. Next to him Ariadne snorted and Arthur had a hard time not to laugh as well. His exasperation was stronger than the humor though. _Out and proud_ was a very euphemistic way to describe the countless scandals concerning Eames and various men in various states of undress and intoxication that they had had to work through over the last four years.

Mal smiled. “Just that, thank you, Jean. That Eames sexuality is public knowledge actually works in our favor. It makes any accusation of hiring female hookers less believable. On the downside, the public is used to Eames deviant behavior. What we need to do is make him a respectable man. Make the accusations and the so called proof look like a smear campaign, attacking both your company and Eames attempts at redemption.”

“My point exactly,” Dom took over, halting in his pacing and lying his hand flat on the table, fixing his gaze on Saito, “We have to move fast though. We have to beat the exploitation of these pictures in the media, so that their surfacing looks like a reaction to Eames’s announcement and not the other way round.”

“But why _me_?” It broke out of Arthur, the first thing he had said since Dom had suggested Arthur to marry Eames to save his ass and his father’s company.

“As I said, Arthur: we have to move fast. We need someone we trust and we need them by this morning. We have no time to vet and examine other candidates. Hell, we don’t even have time to get a list of candidates together. Or do you have a better idea to solve this crisis?”

Arthur’s gaze flickered to Eames. He had been awfully quiet. Maybe he had actually for once realized that this was not a joking matter. When their eyes met, Eames gaze was intense. He was staring directly at Arthur, as if he was assessing him, even the slightest hint of mirth wiped from his face but there was a spark in his eyes, bright and intelligent as ever. It made Arthur pause for a moment before collecting himself and staring at the other people in the room, nearly pleading with them to have a better idea, if he couldn’t come up with one.

“We do this all the time,” Mal said softly, reassuringly.

“We do _not_ do this all the time,” Arthur’s voice was sharp and louder than he normally felt the need to be. Ariadne gave this thigh another squeeze. “Yes, we _arrange_ these things all the time but as far as I know, none of you ever took part in a political marriage. A marriage of convenience. Which this wouldn’t even be! There is fucking nothing convenient about it for me.”

“And still, how can you judge something so adamantly, that you yourself have already proposed and may I remind you, supported just minutes ago before Dom suggested you to be one of the grooms.”

Arthur bit his tongue, sinking a little into his chair. It was true. Just minutes ago Eames had been livid, basically screaming that this weren’t the fucking middle ages and that people didn’t marry for political reasons anymore. Arthur had laughed condescendingly, telling Eames that they very much did and that it was his only opportunity if he wanted to fend off any possible charges and save face.

“What do you think? You’ve been unusually quiet,” Jean addressed Eames. Arthur’s eyes snapped back to Eames and only for a split second longer was Eames leveling his gaze at him. A blink and the Eames Arthur very much knew and barely tolerated was back, lounging back in his chair and smirking, tapping two fingers two to his plush lips as if in deep thought.

“Well, I never intended to be a bachelor for life, if I am being honest with myself and you folks. I am 34, strongly going 35, sounds like the perfect age to stop messing around, eh? What do you say, darling? Would you do me the honour of tying the knot with me?”

He winked at Arthur and for a moment the image of them kissing in front of the alter flashed before his eyes, followed by a more vivid picture of the wedding night, Eames naked and laid out on a huge bed, all for Arthur. Nude and unapologetic. Inviting and wild while still tender and honest.

“No,” Arthur said with emphasis. Dom groaned. Mal closed her eyes in exasperation. Jean didn’t give much away but followed the conversation with an alert look on her face. Ariadne turned to him though just as Dom started to talk to Saito again.

“Would it be that horrible, though?”

“Uh, ya?” Ariadne tilted her head and raised her eyebrows.

“Seriously. It saves Eames. It saves Saito. I know you’ve always been a one and done kinda guy but this wouldn’t even count. At least it doesn’t have to to you. And beside that you get the wedding night and most likely more than that. You can’t fool me, Arthur. I see your glares but I also see your stares. I know you’d never allow Eames to make a move because you are a tight ass professional up to the roots of your hair but it would be well within the norm to have sex with a spouse. Even a political one.”

“Isn’t that basically prostitution? I am paid by Dom who is paid by Saito. Would kinda make Dom my pimp. No, thanks,” Arthur hissed back. Ariadne rolled her eyes. “You know that makes no sense. You are two consenting adults and you are not paid to sleep with him. You are paid to fix his publicity issues and aren’t you the one who normally says “whatever it takes”? It is not a duty to sleep with him, Arthur, it’s an opportunity. It’s killing two flies with one stone. Eames and Saito get rid of their problems and you get to go around your own policies and get to fuck Eames.”

“That is so cheap, Ariadne,” Arthur groaned.

“Well, you know me. Always one to get you laid and morals twisted.”

“Yeah, so very you. No morals and only sex on your mind.” She giggled at the sarcasm in his voice.

“God, shit,” Arthur mumbled, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “I’ll do it,” he announced loudly, successfully silencing any other discussion in the room. There was stunned silence.

“Excellent,” Saito said and immediately him, Dom and Mal were engrossed in another discussion on how to proceed.

“For the record, I am not doing this for the possibility of sex,” Arthur whispered in the direction of Ariadne who laughed out a “Yeah, sure.” Across the table Jean was smiling at him encouragingly. Eames looked stunned. When Arthur raised his eyebrows in a way that was clearly defiant and questioning, Eames simply turned his face away. If Arthur had known Eames less well, he might have thought Eames was blushing.

***

Hours later Arthur’s head was pounding while the clock was already closer to midday than to midnight. Mal looked as put together as always while Ariadne seemed to shift between alert excitement and lethargic drowsing. Dom had dark circles under his eyes, as had Eames who looked much more attractive with them than Dom did.

Saito had just stepped out again to take a business call, while Jean had excused herself hours earlier to her office in order to get some inquiries about how fast they could get a marriage license, if they actually needed to go that far.

They had discussed how to make their make-believe engagement – for absence of a better word –  believable. Arthur had opposed every single point, mostly out of personal aversion more than professional objection, but had stopped when Cobb had told him off for being inefficient.

As of 7am it had been decided that Arthur would move in with Eames. They had also decided that they would announce the engagement and set a date so far in the future that, while planning would be in order, they still had time to cancel when the waters had calmed enough to prevent scandal.

“Okay, so we have a timeline. Now we only need to work on publicity,” Dom sighed, putting down the Sharpie and taking another look at the notes and dates on the white board.

“I know you will all laugh at me for asking, but I’d like to keep my affairs as private as possible,” Arthur said. Mal peeked up at that, stopping to tap against her empty coffee cup while Dom just nodded understandingly.

“I actually think we can use that, Arthur,” Mal grinned.

“That is not what I was…” Arthur started but Mal shushed him. “We can actually say your relationship and in the same way the engagement wasn’t made public, because you are a private person! Anyone who ever had the pleasure of meeting you would concede to that and as we have dealt with a lot of journalists and other people of importance in this city that’s quite a lot.”

“Yes! Great!” Cob expelled. Arthur simply sunk back into his chair raising his hands in a _I give up_ gesture, which made Ariadne laugh sleepily.

“Which still doesn’t help us with how to get the word out. If Arthur is indeed as private as we want everyone to believe, we cannot simply announce it via press release or twitter or any other social media. We need to be discovered which is actually kind of hard considering Arthur and I have been an item for about 6 hours now.”

The office doors closed silently as Saito stepped back in, phone still in hand.

“I think I have a solution for that. Later in the morning I have a press conference concerning a new project. It’s mostly business journalists and interested parties, but from time to time some yellow press guy tags along to question me about Eames’ escapades. We just need to place a reporter of that sort at the conference and give them a tip to ask about Eames being serious with someone. I can just go along with it. That should get the word out just fine.”

Saito smiled. Dom simply stepped toward him and placed one hand on Saito’s shoulder. Arthur rolled his eyes and as so often that night, Eames caught his gaze. Eames was smiling tiredly, like he didn’t even notice he was. It made Arthur’s heart jump and he nearly forgot to be pissed for a moment.

***

“I still can’t believe this is happening,” Arthur groaned, glancing at the TV from behind his arm. He was lying on the very soft (too soft) couch in Eames’ spacious apartment. Eames was sitting in a lounge chair, while Ariadne was sitting with her back straight on the couch, Arthur’s feet in her lap.

“Shh, I don’t want to miss it,” she scolded him and turned the volume up to drown out any possible whining from Arthur. Eames laughed deep and throaty, giddy nearly.

“What are you so happy about?” Arthur snapped.

“Oh, I just find the affair highly entertaining, darling. Really, I can’t remember the last time I was part of such a delightful scam. It’s tremendously refreshing and I always enjoy good company.”

“Well, I don’t mean to be.”

“Actually, I was talking about Ariadne.” He had the audacity to wink at her at that.

“Don’t even try, Eames. We are both too gay for that,” Ariadne said, not taking her eyes from the screen.

“I can attest to that,” Arthur mumbled unthinkingly. Eames peeked up.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Christmas party two years ago. He was drunk. I was drunk. We made out. The next morning I had to give him the _I only kiss boys when I am drunk off my ass talk_. Broke his heart.”

“You did not!” Arthur protested, extracting his feet from her lap and curling up a little on his side of the couch. “Why the fuck would you even tell him that?” Ariadne shrugged.

“So, Arthur, I didn’t know you played for both teams.”

“I don’t play for any team. Sexuality is not a sport. I just don’t see why I should limit myself to one gender.” Eames made a noncomical sound at that and Arthur looked back at the TV. “Can we focus now? My life is about to become a matter of interest on national TV.”

“Don’t piss your pants, love,” Eames yawned, cricking his neck before relaxing back into his chair, “I am pretty sure we are the only three people watching this station. Bloody hell, I didn’t even know there was one dedicated to showing boring press conferences all day.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Arthur mumbled but shut up when Ariadne wacked his legs with the remote control.

“ _Mr. Saito, Chantal Thomson, Us Weekly. Is it true that your son is finally getting serious with someone?_ ” a female voice droned from the TV and Arthur’s breath hitched.

On the TV Saito paused for a moment then smiled very lightly, fondly.

“ _I suppose I should just be grateful that this is a nice question for a change,”_ the crowd of journalists chuckled in unison _, “Yes, Miss Thomson, it is true. Eames has been seeing someone in secrecy for quite some time now and I am happy to let you know that they actually got engaged this week_.”

A murmur went through the crowed as everyone took in that surprising piece of information. It took only a second until even the proper and usually collected journalists had started shouting questions about Eames. Saito looked as if he had bitten into something sour.

 _Well played_ , Arthur thought. A second later Eames phone started buzzing annoyingly on the coffee table.

“Oh, the happy news has already hit the net.”

Eames handed his phone to Ariadne who looked at the phone and laughed before handing it to Arthur. On the screen Arthur could see a handful of tweets, either directly sent to Eames or mentioning him. They all were about the engagement.

“So much for only three people watching that station.”

***

The rest of the day was rather uneventful. Both of the men had been instructed to stay at the apartment to “get to know each other better” in order to make any possible public appearance more believable, as well as avoid the paparazzi who were waiting for them outside of Eames’ apartment building. It went better than Eames had thought it would, even after Ariadne had left. Arthur had told him that he hadn’t anticipated such interest in Eames’ life. Eames had laughed and teased him about not knowing everything about him after all. Arthur had actually looked offended at that and told him he only knew about the important things. Then he had turned the volume up on the TV and concentrated really hard on the tremendously boring news caster. A tactic to overplay his professional neglect, Eames guessed. Eames couldn’t help but grin giddily at such an amusing display of Arthur’s antics.

In the end Eames had suggested to play _two_ _truths and a lie_ and even though Arthur had been annoyed at first, it had activated his competitive streak, like Eames had hoped it would. Once Eames had broken out a good bottle of Scotch it also got more fun. Eames favourite round had been when Arthur claimed that 1. He knew how to hotwire a car, 2. Could touch the tip of his nose with his tongue, 3. Had nearly gotten arrested at age 15. Eames had been sure that Arthur was a lot but not a teenage convict and had been intrigued and delighted to get to know otherwise. Arthur then tried to demonstrate how he could _not_ touch the tip of his nose with his tongue, making some very weird but adorable faces and being very distracting with his flexible tongue.

“I never told anyone that,” Arthur had said, suddenly a lot more sober.

“What? That you cannot reach your nose with your tongue? That’s hardly something to be ashamed of, love,” Eames had joked. His laughter had died when Arthur had shaken his head.

“No, the… arresting thing. Normally, I rather people not know that. It just… makes them reconsider everything… that I want them to see me as, you know?” At that point Arthur had already been close to falling asleep, eyes heavy with intoxication and a night spent up arguing and worrying.

“I think you’re amazing,” Eames had said in all honesty. Arthur had blinked owlishly at him and then grinned, his cheeks dimpling. Eames felt like he could melt.

“Why are you not always so nice?” Arthur had mumbled as he had curled up further on the sofa and fallen asleep promptly, his glass still dangling from his fingers.

“I don’t know,” Eames had confessed to Arthur’s sleeping form before saving the glass from crashing to the ground and waking Arthur up again.

That had been hours ago and Eames had spent them sitting in his lounge chair and looking at Arthur. He knew he had lied when he said he didn’t know why he tended to be a dickhead towards Arthur. He knew pretty damn well. First of all: it was fucking entertaining. It wasn’t hard to get Arthur riled up but over the years Eames had learned that it was hard to get him to show it. Granted, if they were alone it wasn’t that difficult, but to get Arthur literally _lose his shit_ when they were in a more official setting? Fucking piece of work. Eames had always liked a challenge. So being nice would go against that. Being flirtatious, being rude, being a task to handle, a smartass, a brat. That got the job done. Being nice didn’t.

Along the line, he had honestly started liking Arthur though. He wasn’t just someone to entertain him. He was _more_. Teasing Arthur was still bloody fun but sometimes he just had this urge to make his teasing lighter, to make Arthur smile rather than give him a stony look or a flare of his nostrils. At this point though, he didn’t even know how!

Being nice would change everything and what if Eames changing wouldn’t change how Arthur perceived him? That would hurt. Eames tended to not bother with things that could hurt. On the other hand: what if it did and one of them, most likely Eames, fucked it up? The status quo they had built was good. It was comfortable. It was safe.

Keeping that in mind, Eames had no fucking clue why he was doing this. Why he was putting himself through this.

The whole engagement idea had been ridiculous and he was still not sure how _being_ _engaged_ would make him look any more… well family-friendly. Especially because he _had_ paid these prostitutes. Granted, they hadn’t been for him. Eames was gay through and through after all. The engagement idea was still fucking ridiculous but when Dom had suggested Arthur to be his husband... he couldn’t deny that his heart had stopped beating for a moment and he had agreed to the plan faster than he could have thought it through. The attraction he felt for Arthur had been immediate the first time he had seen him. Over the years fondness had added to that. Attraction and fondness were a dangerous combination for Eames. He tried to avoid feeling both for one person. With Arthur it had gotten to a level where he might even call it affection.

And now Arthur was sleeping on his couch, in his apartment, drooling on the expensive pillow and snoring quietly.

“All the passions make us commit faults; love makes us commit the most ridiculous ones,” he quoted at no one, not even sure if he meant what he was saying. He took another sip from his glass, emptying it and put it down quietly, trying not to disturb Arthur. A glance at the grandfather clock told him that it was only quarter past eight. He blinked rapidly and pressed his knuckles against his closed eyes. He felt knackered and decided that he couldn’t leave Arthur on the couch all night.

Slowly he got up and after a moment of indecision put a hesitant hand on Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur didn’t react. Eames squeezed his shoulder lightly and as that didn’t do anything but make Arthur mumble lightly, he shook him a little. Finally, Arthur’s eyes blinked open.

“Hey, sleeping beauty. I think I need to get you into bed,” Eames smiled warmly and Arthur smiled back, unguarded in his exhausted state.

“Eames,” he just mumbled and was about to doze off again but Eames wouldn’t let him.

“Oh no, love. That couch is amazing but’ll give you one hell of a crick in your neck. Come on up.” Before Arthur could protest any further, Eames had pulled him up and placed one of Arthur’s arms across his shoulders while Eames encircled Arthur’s waste to make him stand. Like that he half carried him a couple of steps, until Arthur had woken up enough to be disgruntled by being manhandled like that.

“Alright, alright. Jesus, Eames, just tell me where the fuck the bathroom is.”

Eames pointed at a door and Arthur walked into the other room, snatching his suitcase on the way.

After a moment Eames heard Arthur calling for him.

“Eames? That’s not the bathroom. That’s your bedroom.”

“And the master bathroom is an en-suite. It’s that or the toilet, darling,” Eames called in Arthur’s direction and as Arthur didn’t complain any further Eames figured he was too tired to be difficult.

When Arthur emerged a couple of minutes later he looked refreshed and more put together, more comfortable too, in a long sleeved shirt and flannel bottoms.

“So, where’s my room?” For a moment Eames was baffled by that question.

“What do you mean? You just…” Then it dawned to him and he had to let out a short laugh. “Actually, there is no _your_ room. In fact there is nothing that is _yours_ here.”

“Fuck you, Eames. I know that I don’t really live here. Don’t make this more difficult.” Arthur started to look a lot less relaxed and a lot more agitated so Eames backtracked quickly.

“That’s not what I mean. I meant that this is all _ours_ … at least for the time being and as it is, there is only _one_ bedroom and only _one_ bed. _Our_ bedroom. _Our_ bed.”

Arthur stared at him for a long moment before turning on his heel and saying to the empty room, “You’re fucking kidding me.” He turned back at Eames, looking helplessly around the big living room area. “But this place is enormous! I’ve only been to like three rooms and I can tell that it’s four times the size of my fucking place.”

Eames nodded trying to look sympathetic. “Yeah, it is big but that doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t ever furnish a second bedroom. I have more rooms just not… one with another bed.”

Arthur stayed quiet for another moment, his arms crossed over his chest. It made Eames anxious and he had just started to bite the inside of his cheek to not say anything to make this more awkward when Arthur said, “Fine, I’ll take the couch.”

“What? No, Arthur, that’s ridiculous.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“Yeah, obviously. We just both sleep in the bed. It’s just as huge as the flat. We might even be able to like build a wall or something if you’re so uncomfortable with sleeping with me in one bed.”

“This isn’t about you, Eames,” Arthur said, not quite meeting his eye. Eames had the notion that Arthur’s crossed arms had gone from contained aggressiveness to protective defensiveness.

“What is it then?” Eames looked at Arthur closely, but he had put on his poker face. His whole posture had relaxed and all of a sudden Arthur was unreadable to Eames.

“It’s nothing. Just don’t hog the blanket.” And with that Arthur turned and went to bed.

When Eames joined him after putting away the Scotch and making his own trip to the bathroom, Arthur was already asleep, back turned away from Eames and lying as close to the edge as possible.

Eames wasn’t sure what he felt when he crawled under the blanket as well. There was this weird urge to extend his hand, touch Arthur’s shoulder and turn him towards Eames. There was also a sour taste in his mouth at the sight of Arthur trying so hard to not be close. And there was a hurt feeling in his gut. Hurt not because Arthur was hurting him but hurt because Eames had the feeling that Arthur was smart to keep his distance.

***

When Arthur woke up he felt like shit. He had no idea how long he had slept. He only knew that it had been too much or too little. Also hangover. Or exhaustion. _Something_ was making him feel nauseous. What a way to start the day.

The only thing making him feel better was how warm and soft but solid everything around him was. He had slept without dreaming or tossing restlessly and at least his body wasn’t feeling sore or tense. He didn’t even understand how he could sleep so comfortably until he slowly blinked his eyes open and realized that no pillow in the world could feel as soft _and_ solid as a well built male chest. To be specific, Eames’ chest. The chest Arthur had currently pillowed his head on.

Only good instincts and the awareness of Eames’ arm being slung around his back, stopped him from jolting up and away immediately. He thanked every god and goddess he didn’t believe in that Eames apparently hadn’t been the first person to wake up and slowly tried to extract himself from Eames’ grip.

It didn’t work.

As soon as Arthur had attempted to wiggle away and carefully take Eames’ arm off of him, Eames had groaned sleepily and crushed Arthur further against his chest, tightening his arm and rolling them both a little on the side. It would have been easier to escape that way, hadn’t Eames other arm and leg come into it, sufficiently tangling Arthur with all of Eames’ limbs. Arthur felt like he was smothered by an octopus.

Not seeing any means of extracting himself from his current dilemma, Arthur surrendered to his awkwardfate.

That was the perfect word to describe it. It was awkward to sleep in the same bed as someone you desired. It was awkward to be _wrapped_ _up_ in someone you desired. It was fucking awkward to have to pretend to be engaged to someone you desired.

Scratch that. It wasn’t just awkward. It was plain hell.

Maybe Ariadne thought that this was the moment to act upon his desires. To let loose and just go with it. Fiancés slept with each other, so why shouldn’t they?

But that was the point. They weren’t fiancés. Hell, they weren’t even friends or colleagues or any other interpersonal relationship that dealt on the same level of emotion and commitment. No. Arthur was a professional and Eames was his client. That hadn’t sounded right, not even in his head but the fact stood.

They were not romantically involved. They pretended to be romantically involved. So they didn’t sleep with each other. Shouldn’t in fact sleep with each other. All they needed was to make the public and anyone else that counted believe that they indeed did sleep with each other.

The day before, Arthur had to admit, he had been grumpy. Annoyed. Unprofessional. He had agreed to the scheme because he couldn’t come up with anything better. Sadly enough, that was still true but once Arthur committed to something, he stuck with it and so he would be the best fake fiancé possible, the most believable and reliable one, at least as long as someone was looking.

What was decidedly _not_ in that job description was cuddling with his client. 

Arthur turned his head from where he had been staring a hole into the white ceiling for the last couple of minutes to look at Eames. He was snoring lightly, his face nearly crushed into the crook of Arthur’s shoulder. If he turned his head just right, their lips would be nearly brushing. Eames lips were full and looked so fucking soft. If he just…

With a loud bang the bedroom door yanked open and crushed against the wall in full swing.

“Engaged?” someone shrieked and before Arthur could even react to get something, a gun, a bat, a fucking pillow, Eames had startled awake and simply pushed the covers over their heads.

“Eames! What the fuck?” Arthur whisper-shouted at him, as his attempts to get himself out of bed and into a fighting stance were prevented by Eames still very much clinging to him.

“It’s just Robert. Don’t bother,” Eames mumbled sleepily into his shoulder before placing a very sloppy, wet and scratchy kiss on his neck.

“Who the fuck is Robert?” Arthur hissed, still struggling to get away. His question was answered when the comforter was yanked away and a very pretty and very angry face appeared over him.

“Engaged?” the man yelled again and tried to yank at Eames.

Arthur had had enough at this point. This man obviously wasn’t a robber or intruding paparazzi and neither a lethal threat. Well, at least not towards Arthur. What he was though, was getting on his fucking nerves and that was something Arthur couldn’t deal with before his first coffee.

“Yes, fucking engaged, now could you be so kind to get the hell out. Jesus, who even are you?”

Arthur yelling back had seemingly been enough to get Eames semi-awake because suddenly Arthur was free to move and Eames was sitting up next to him in bed, rubbing his eyes.

“Shite, Robert. What the hell are you doing here?”

The man – Robert – had stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest and was now pointedly not looking at either of them. “I was just surprised okay? Surprised that the man who spent the last weekend fucking me is engaged all of a sudden and from what his ass of a father says has been for quite a while.”

Arthur was dumbfounded. How could they not have thought about how Eames promiscuous lifestyle could bombard their story of long and committed secret relationship?

“Shite, Robert,” Eames repeated, “I just… we kept it secret okay? Secret and casual.”

Arthur looked at Eames who was still rubbing at his eyes. The lie had come from his lips so naturally. Arthur was actually impressed. He glanced back at Robert who was now biting his plush lips. Arthur could seriously understand why Eames would have wanted to have all that.

When Robert looked up again he looked directly at Eames. His look was determined but Arthur could see traces of hurt around the edges of his eyes and his mouth. Hurt pride most likely by turning out to having been a _mistress_. Was there even a male term for that? Anyway, Arthur could sympathize. Even though technically Robert hadn’t been one. With a lot of luck on their side, he’d never find out.

“I’ve known you for over half a year Eames. You have never even so much as… indicated that you had or simply wanted anything serious let alone get married!”

Arthur looked back at Eames quickly needing him to come up with another brilliant lie.

“It’s just different with Arthur. And the secrecy… what can I say, it’s what Arthur wanted. Actually, what we’d still be doing hadn’t Saito thought it was time to move with the plan.” Robert‘s eyebrows rose and he widened his stance. Arthur sighed internally. Seemed like this was going to be a longer conversation.

“And you’re telling me that you suddenly do what your father wants from you? Isn’t it you who always tells me to stand up to my father? Yeah, following authority really sounds like you. Asshole.”

Arthur got up gingerly, trying to somehow get from the bed and move towards the bathroom without attracting attention. Naturally that didn’t work.

“And what the fuck are you doing?” Robert snapped at him

“I am actually going to the bathroom, as you so rudely woke us up, Mr. …?” Arthur tried to keep his voice even if a little annoyed, as if dramatic scenes like this were something he was used to. They probably would be, if Eames and he actually were together.

“Fischer. Robert Fischer, pleased to meet you as I am obviously not someone you know about.”

“Oh, that Robert,” Arthur backtracked, not too hastily he hoped, “No, Eames mentioned you once or twice. You see we tend not to talk too much about our affairs. That would be a little crude, in a way.”

Arthur’s pulse was racing but Robert just huffed out a breath and turned back to berate Eames and Arthur made a quick escape to the bathroom, where he quickly googled Robert Fischer. He could have hit himself when he saw the results. How could he have forgotten that face? Who didn’t know the Fischer family or their associated empire? Arthur certainly did and he now also remembered Robert’s name popping up in relation with Eames’ a while back. That hadn’t been of any intimate nature though.

From behind the closed bathroom door he could still hear voices. Eames was getting louder the longer Robert was yelling at him. Eames had actually been very polite and gentle towards Robert, Arthur thought. If someone had jumped him like that, he’d probably kicked them out straightaway. He might have felt bad for it later, but certainly not in the moment.

When he heard the first thing crushing, Arthur decided to spend some more time in the bathroom. Eames could handle himself after all. With that thought Arthur undressed, turned the stereo on (yes Eames’ shower actually had waterproof speakers and the sound was amazing) and got under the magnificent spray, blending out any drama outside these four walls and attempting to relax for half an hour.

***

When he emerged from the bathroom, the apartment was quiet. Scrutinizing the bed revealed that Eames had actually fallen asleep again. The quiet also indicated that Robert had left. Arthur wasn’t sure yet, if that was a good thing. He’d have to talk to Eames and inform the team about the morning’s shenanigans. Getting dressed and being glad Eames was sleeping came first though.

Dressed comfortably in slacks and a dress shirt, Arthur made himself coffee with Eames’ high end machine. In that moment he was glad they had one of those in the office, or he would have smashed something trying to get his caffeine. With the coffee in hand he settled back onto the couch and shot Dom a text telling him to call when he got a minute.

Not two minutes later, his phone rang.

“Did you kill him?” was the first thing Dom asked.

“What? No, of course not. I consented to this. Reluctantly but nevertheless so Eames will not be harmed by my hands.” _Until this is over_ , he added in his head. A little more concerned he added, “Are you really this worried about all of this? About this working out?”

He could hear a deep sigh on the other end of the line. Dom sounded tired. Even more tired than the night before.

“Yes. No. I don’t know. I won’t deny that it was a desperate idea. But hey, those often turn out to be my most brilliant ones, right?” Arthur was about to disagree but Dom didn’t give him the chance to. “Besides, Mal agreed, so.” His tone implied that Mal’s agreement was the only seal of approval needed. Arthur bit his tongue. If he was quite honest, Mal was stunning and amazing, he also sometimes got the vibe, that the whole PR business was more for her personal entertainment than to handle problems. Then again that didn’t make her less brilliant, so Arthur couldn’t dispute. Much.

“So, what’s up?” Dom asked and Arthur could finally get a word in.

“We had a visitor this morning. Coming in he was pretty… enraged by the whole engagement thing. He was surprised, too. I don’t know if he bought it, but if not it might be trouble. You should look into it. Eames is still sleeping, so I’ll get the whole story once he woke up or I kicked his lazy ass out of bed. Name’s Robert Fischer.”

“That Robert Fischer?” Arthur took a sip of coffee. It was paradox how calming drinking coffee was to him.

“Yup. That one and yes the two of them had sex. Good luck,” and with that he simply hung up on Dom. With the years he had learnt that sometimes you needed to do that to keep your own sanity. Seconds later he got a text.

**F*ng dont do that. Got Ari &Jean on it. Call me when u got news. Will do the same.**

Arthur rolled his eyes. He hated that way of texting. He still answered before deciding to see what TMZ said about gay playboy and style icon Eames being engaged to a nobody. Oh joy.

***

Eames was still sleeping when Arthur's phone rang. He picked up without looking, focused on the TV that was reporting on celebrity news unrelated to both Eames and him. He still found himself surprisingly indulged. When he waited for the caller to respond to his _hello?_ he was sure it would be Dom. It wasn't.  
  
"Arthur?" His mother asked in that soft voice of hers, tentative as if she weren't sure that it was him who had answered.  
  
"Mum," Arthur breathed out. His body went ridgd, all relaxation gone from one second to the next. Arthur loved his mum but they were neither close nor was either of them the sharing type. Her calling on this particular morning could only have one reason. “What’s up? How… how are you?”

“I… ,” his mother paused for a moment. He could practically see her, sitting on one of the kitchen chairs in their shabby New Jersey home, the receiver in one hand while twisting the cable of the wall mounted telephone in the other. She would have that look, her eyebrows knitted together like Arthur’s do. When Arthur was smaller he got to know that look very well. It was that look of nervousness, tension and helplessness that she always used to get when someone called about unpaid bills. He hated putting that look there.

“Mrs. Collinson talked to me. You know? From down the street?”

Arthur held back a curse while slowly relaxing his muscles again. He slumped forward, bracing himself with one elbow on his knee while he rubbed at his face with his free hand. His mother didn’t watch TV. It had always been an odd thing not owning a TV but at least he’d hoped that way he could stop her from finding out about this charade. Mrs. Collinson on the other hand was a fucking gossip.

“Yeah, sure. I remember that,” he bit back another curse, “woman.”

“Well, I met her when going to the store that morning and she had news. About you…”

“I’m sorry, mum.” He felt a headache creeping up. From all the things happening over the last days, this was the worst.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Arthur? I mean, I know we aren’t close but I mean… engaged? Is it… because it’s a man? You know, I don’t have a problem with that, baby. You do know that, right?”

His mother sounded hurt. Terribly hurt. As hurt as when he had been fifteen and come home with a broken nose and two broken ribs at five am. She always seemed to think that everything that ever went sideways in his life was her fault. In that moment Arthur seriously wanted to punch everyone from Saito, to Eames, Dom and the rest of the fucking team.

“No, Mum! No… it’s just, we kept it secret. You know I don’t like people talking about me and well, you see what’s happening now that people know. I just… I’d have told you once Eames and I had gotten serious about marrying.” He winced. That sounded like a ton of crap.

“What? And deciding to get engaged is not serious enough?”

“Mum,” he didn’t know what to say. What could he say?

“I just wanted to congratulate you. Nothing in the world makes me happier than to know that you are somewhere living your life and… being happy.”

“We’re going to visit you,” Arthur said and could have slapped himself for making that promise a second later.

“You are?” His mother sounded positively stunned and gleeful and he couldn’t bear to go back on that promise. At least not then and there.

“Yeah, of course. It’s only right, meeting the parents is part of the deal right?” He managed a tight smile and hoped that she could hear the attempt in his voice.

“Oh, Arthur. That’s wonderful… I am just glad that we are okay.”

“Yes, Mum. Of course we are. See, I’ll call you back alright? I think Eames just got up,” Eames was nowhere to be heard or seen but he really needed to hang up and punch something.

“You live together?” Shit.

“Yeah, kind of. I still have my place but since the media stuff… it’s easier at his place. But mum…”

“Yes, of course, babe. Go greet your man from me, alright?” And with that she hung up. Arthur stared at this phone for another long moment before throwing it into the chair Eames had sat in the previous night and bellowing out one heartfelt loud _FUCK!_

***

When Eames woke up a second time that morning, he felt grumpy. The bed beside him was cold and empty. He wasn’t actually surprised. Crawling back into bed with him was certainly not something Arthur was inclined to do. The thought sucked. Just as much as the whole morning did.

Fucking Robert. Eames groaned at the memory while literally rolling out of bed. He hadn’t intended to but when his body hit the floor beside his bed with a loud thud he groaned again. This time both in pain and exasperation, already so fucking done with the whole day.

The only thing that kept him from heaving himself back into bed straight away was the sound of steps and the bedroom door opening.

“What the fuck, Eames,” was Arthur’s charming good morning greeting. Eames just groaned, making no move to get up until broad hands with long fingers grabbed his shoulders and pulled him upright. Eames followed, if only because he was too taken aback to do otherwise.

“Did you seriously just fall out of bed? What are you? Eight? Do I have to kiss it better now?” Arthur grumbled. That comment had Eames’ spirits up quicker than he’d thought possible.

“It actually might, darling,” he murmured with a voice still hoarse from sleep, while kicking his legs to get untangled from the covers. “But I fell with my whole front to the floor, so kissing it better might turn out to be a morning filling task.” He winked, though the mischievousness of the gesture was obstructed by a yawn.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Get dressed. We need to talk about what happened this morning.”

***

Half an hour later they were both seated at the bar in the kitchen, Eames with a Latte Macchiato and Arthur with his third cup of black coffee.

“I’d never thought you’d need that much caffeine to get going in the morning,” Eames commented with an uncertain gaze.

“Just because I am used to getting up early, doesn’t mean it comes to me naturally,” Arthur grumbled and took a big gulp of coffee.

“Well, I’d say you’re on vacation, so sleep in. Trust me, darling, I would not kick you out of bed.” Eames smirked but Arthur’s face clouded before becoming nearly void of expression.

“Your boyfriend didn’t agree with that idea and with that we are on topic. Spill.”

Eames sighed. He had known that it would go like that. It was the main reason why he had decided to go back to sleep after Robert had left.

“Robert is not my boyfriend. We met at a party months ago and bonded over our mutual love for classic movies, the misfortune of being the sons of wealthy rich business men and desire to fuck each other’s brains out. Robert might have gotten more invested than me but don’t you worry your pretty little head. He’s so fucking deep in the closet, he’d never out what we had. His daddy wouldn’t enjoy having a poof as a son and heir to his empire. Robert won’t come out till that bastard is in the ground.”

“That’s reassuring,” Arthur said drily. “You’re telling me there is actually no mess to clean up?”

Eames shook his head and crossed his fingers over his heart.

“There is one thing though, he wants to get dinner with us. I guess he wants to sniff you out. Either because he’s jealous or because he guesses that I was talking rubbish.”

“Either is bad news. Damn it, Eames!”

“Hey that whole thing wasn’t my idea. You guys know what kind of guy I am. Don’t act like this is oh so surprising. Idiocy is unbecoming of you, Arthur.”

For a second Eames thought that Arthur was going to punch him. In the end he just turned away and went to get his phone, which was lying on his lounge chair for some reason. He dialed a number and waited for the other person to pick up. His back was turned to Eames. For all that Arthur obviously cared, Eames could have been on the other side of the universe.

“Dom? Yeah, I talked to Lord Byron here and yeah, he did sleep with Fischer and I am guessing countless others in the last couple of months so I guess first I’ll have to get the names and then do the research so it doesn’t blow up in our faces.” Arthur sounded positively dangerous, especially because he didn’t sound angry, just annoyed. “Oh and Fischer wants to go out with his ex-boytoy and said’s fake fiancé so we have to arrange that.”

Arthur paused a moment. His fingers were curled around the backrest of the lounge chair until they suddenly tensed up and dug into the soft leather.

“How much longer?” Arthur only asked. He didn’t seem to like the answer, as his nails only clenched harder, Arthur’s hands quivering with the force.

“I will not do it _here_ alone with them. I set it up, alright, but you guys are all fucking invited. Let’s make it a fucking joyful little gathering. Friends and colleagues congratulating the happy couple.”

There was another pause. Then, “I knew you’d love it. While we’re at it, we can leak couple of pictures to the press. Twitter or something. I’ll talk to Eames and send you a brief on our backstory and what you should be able to verify, if asked. We’ll set it up for the end of the week.”

The next pause was longer and Eames was straining to hear anything from the other side of the conversation. It was to no avail. Finally Arthur let out an exasperated breath and with a strained _Understood_ he hung up.

Even after the call Arthur didn’t turn around to look at him.

“I am going to occupy one of your other rooms to work. Be so cooperative as to send me a list of the people you had relations with during the last six months. I’ll need details about person, duration and separation. The rest I’ll research. Email is fine.”

Without another glance at Eames, Arthur grabbed his laptop from his bag by the TV and went to leave the room. At the door he paused. “And you are forbidden to leave the apartment.”

In that moment Eames didn’t know if he should be narked, offended or simply sad, watching Arthur leave.

***

„The Rachel Maddow Show. Weeknights on 9 eastern on MSNBC,” the voice announced on the telly and Eames huffed out a disgruntled sound. It was fucking after nine pm. It was practically night, which meant that Arthur hadn’t shown his face in ten hours! It was ridiculous, a word Eames seemed to use a lot in relation to Arthur since he had moved in.

Eames glanced at the door leading towards the other rooms, straining to hear. If he concentrated very hard, he could hear Arthur typing away on his laptop. Or he was imagining things. After all there were several tens of square feet and two doors between them. He was positive that if he could, he would hear Arthur working though.

It was unsettling and unfair. No. _Incompetent_. Yes. Eames was Arthur’s client after all. If Arthur were doing anything it should be Eames. Eames shook his head. That thought had sounded both so very wrong and far too right.

Ultimately the fact remained that Arthur was being ridiculous. Positively infuriating. He hadn’t talked to Eames all day! He hadn’t even come out of that room to get something to drink or eat.

He had taken his time putting the list together. He had been sure that Arthur would be in his face and at his throat if he took too long. In the end Eames had gotten bored with delaying him and just sent it without having Arthur berate him for it.

Since then he had only sat in his lounge chair and watched telly, waiting for Arthur.

He wasn’t sure if he was talking about Arthur or himself. Last night he had decided that trying anything at any time in any situation with Arthur was a stupid idea on both of their accounts and now he was hanging around just _waiting_ for Arthur to come to him, to notice him and if it were only to roll his eyes or yell at him. Shite, he got it worse than he had feared.

Seeing Robert that morning had only solidified how different the attraction to Robert had been versus what he desired from Arthur… to wake up curled around that lithe, strong, alluring body, a body that was only the vessel to a sharp mind and intriguing character, had been bliss.

Whatever was going on now wasn’t bliss. It was torture. It was like a study in delayed gratification, without any certainty that gratification would ever come.

Eames stood up, suddenly restless. Pacing back and forth, his right hand ruffling his own hair, his gaze caught on the coffee maker. Arthur had had a lot of coffee in the morning. He seemed positively addicted...

“Oh, for god’s sake,” Eames grumbled under his breath before he got to work, making coffee for Arthur.

Quarter of an hour later he was standing in front of the room Arthur had occupied. It actually was his office, which was a plausible choice as it had everything Arthur needed and Eames only used it once in a while. If that often.

Currently Eames was debating whether to knock or not. His upbringing and the fact that Arthur was angry already made him seriously consider knocking, while his full hands and awareness that this was in fact his office made him want to barge in.

Finally he settled on a compromise, tapping the door with his elbow before pressing down on the handle in practically one move. Arthur didn’t look up when Eames entered. He was sitting at the giant desk by the window, laptop in front of him. Nothing else had been altered.

“Hey,” Eames said softly, placing the cup of coffee and plate of donuts on the free space next to Arthur’s laptop, before leaning against the table, just centimetres from Arthur.

“I...,” Arthur seemed startled, his fingers frozen on the keyboard, but he still didn’t look up. After clearing his throat, Arthur’s fingers set back into motion, typing away. “Working, obviously.”

Eames made an unintelligible sound at that. “I noticed you hadn’t eaten all day.” He shoved his hands into his pockets while crossing his legs, leaning further back against the table. His words hung in the air until Arthur finally started nodding slowly, breaking the uncomfortable tension between them.

“Thanks, I guess I needed that.” Arthur grabbed the coffee. As the smell first hit his nostrils and then the taste and warmth his tongue, Eames could practically see him unwinding. He had noticed that already in the morning, how relaxing coffee seemed to be for him, rather than energizing.

For a moment Eames let the silence stretch between them. He simply looked at Arthur, taking in his concentrated demeanour. Eames had spent the last few years doing things at his own sweet will. Watching someone like Arthur work was intriguing. Or maybe it was just Arthur who was intriguing to him.

“So what are you working on?”

“Just digging up stuff on your flings and lovers. You failed to mention your preference for certain... clubs.”

Eames glanced at the screen and couldn’t stop a sheepish grin at the sight of leather and chains.

“Well, that has never been part of any scandal.”

“Yet. Let’s just hope that the public will stay oblivious to your preferences to be tied up and taken hard.” Arthur said that so uninterested, as if he were talking about his tax returns. Eames on the other hand couldn’t stop himself from getting a serious case of tunnel vision, his thoughts suddenly in a different room of the flat. He himself spread out on the bed they had both slept in the previous night. His hands tied to the headboard, stark naked, while Arthur was standing over him, in one of these fucking suits, talking about taking him hard and thorough like he was debating whether or not to get Chinese take-out. Casual and confident. As if taking Eames was a game that he knew he’d win anytime no matter how strong and clever Eames was.

“Huh,” Eames let out a shuddering breath and dug his fingernails into his thigh through the pockets of his trousers.

Arthur glanced at him, an eyebrow raised in question.

“Nothing,” Eames hurried to say, “I just thought you should catch a break. You’ve been at it all day. I know I have been busy but the rest can wait till tomorrow. Let’s just watch a movie, yeah? Talk some more. I just... I just want this to be civil, alright? No more fighting if we can help it.”

“What are you proposing?” Arthur asked. He had actually turned with his chair to directly face him. Even though Arthur was sitting, Eames suddenly felt small under that gaze. He didn’t let it show.

“A truce, you might call it. We have to make this,” he nodded his head towards Arthur, “believable and besides that we might have to be around each other for quite some time, so come take a break.”

Arthur stared at him for a long moment, calculating.

“Fine,” he finally answered and Eames could feel all the tension leave his body, “but I pick the movie.” Eames couldn’t hold back his grin as he left the office, Arthur following, coffee and donut in hand.

***

Watching the movie had been... _domestic_. While Arthur had been browsing through movies via Eames Netflix account, Eames had suggested ordering dinner as neither of them had eaten. Arthur had said he didn’t care what they got as long as there were no nuts in it. Eames had looked as if he had wanted to joke about Arthur not liking nuts but refrained, just snickering to himself as he placed an order at the four star restaurant on the first floor of the building.

The food had been there within half an hour just as they had been about to settle onto the couch with a bottle of wine. Arthur had chosen _Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon_ and Eames tilted his head as if to say that he hadn’t known what he expected and still wasn’t sure if that hadn’t been it. Arthur had a hard time hiding his smile, which made him wonder why he had felt the need to a second later.

Eames had settled on the couch next to him, instead of sitting in his usual chair. It was only sensible, Arthur reasoned with himself. The coffee table was far easier to reach from the couch after all.

Watching the movie was a mostly silent affair, which surprised Arthur. Eames was usually so loud and outgoing when it was just the two of them but now he seemed totally enthralled by the movie, eyes focused on the TV and his whole body tensing and relaxing with the course of action. It was _cute_. It made Arthur smile and he started wondering how Eames might react to a story, to a plot twist he didn’t know. Would he flail and search for support? It was an entertaining thought and he had to turn his head away to hide his grin.

When he turned his head back around Eames was looking at him, head tilted lightly and one corner of his plush mouth turned up in both smile and question. This time Arthur didn’t hold back his answering smile and just shook his head lightly, closing his eyes and sinking back into the couch before focusing on the movie again. Next to him he could feel Eames slouching further into the couch as well. Eames always seemed to take up so much space. He was broad, yes. But it was more than that. The way he held himself, casual and always comfortable, seemed to fill the whole room. They had most certainly taken up all the space in the bed last night. If he didn’t concentrate hard, Arthur could still feel all that muscle and skin caging him in, searching for comfort and giving shelter.

In this moment, this very body was sitting right next to him, both of them sinking further into the cushions with every minute and Arthur felt like they were gravitating towards each other. Or was he only gravitating towards Eames?

His gaze snapped up as he noticed the credits were rolling. How had he missed the end of the movie?

Next to him Eames was shuffling, like he couldn’t decide whether to get up or to snuggle into his seat.

“Bloody hell, it’s already close to 1am!”

“Don’t pretend like you normally go to bed earlier than that,” Arthur couldn’t help teasing. Eames chuckled.

“Eh, just because I am used to it, doesn’t mean it comes to me naturally,” he quoted Arthur’s words from this morning and Arthur closed his eyes and smiled. “Besides, my beauty sleep was unruly disturbed this morning.” Arthur’s eyes snapped open and the smile disappeared.

“Guess it was,” he noticed that his own voice sounded colder, less sleepy.

“Promise won’t happen again,” Eames chuckled and finally heaved himself up. When he stood he extended his hand towards Arthur to help him up. For a moment Arthur thought to refuse, just out of principle but looking at Eames, he had a feeling that with time he would start to let go of many of his principles. Arthur took his hand and Eames pulled him up, laughing when Arthur tumbled a little against him.

“You wanna go to the bathroom first?” Eames asked as he collected their empty glasses and dishes from the coffee table to put into the dishwasher.

“Sure,” Arthur answered and was already on the way towards the bathroom. It had been a long day after all.

That night when he waited for Eames to join him in bed, he pretended to be asleep again. Despite his exhaustion he was awake a long time after Eames breathing had evened out and still when Eames’ quiet breathing gave away to slight snoring.

Arthur turned towards Eames and looked at him. There was a lot in his head. In the morning he had seen no reason to not tell Eames about his mother’s call. At the time it had just been another shitty detail of their charade to be dealt with. When they had fought, he had essentially not brought it up because he needed room and he didn’t want to bring his mom into the argument. Now though, he knew he didn’t and probably wouldn’t tell Eames because he didn’t know what he wanted Eames to answer.

With a heavy sigh Arthur closed his eyes and sunk further into his pillow. Somehow this also led to him sinking further towards Eames. Arthur hadn’t fully fallen asleep yet, when he felt Eames move next to him, pulling an arm around him and a leg between his legs, surrounding him. Arthur slept.

***

Surprisingly the next day went by without any serious hitch. It actually was more than civil. It was interesting. An interesting day. With Eames.

Sure, waking up had been as awkward as the day before, minus the ex-lover disturbance. When Arthur had woken up he had again been enveloped in Eames’ arms, but this time he could tell Eames was awake. Arthur didn’t open his eyes, though he was sure that Eames must have noticed that he wasn’t asleep any longer. After a moment, Arthur thought he could hear a quiet sigh. Then Eames let go of him, carefully. Before he got up fully, Eames palm lingered at the side of his neck, but it was so fleeting, Arthur wasn’t sure if it had been intentional. Still, the question if it had been had kept his thoughts occupied during the whole of his morning routine.

Having some of the awkwardness avoided in the morning, the rest of the day was actually nice. They had breakfast together, exchanging what they read in the newspaper and getting into a spirited but not mean argument about the latest development in the mayoral race. When Eames threw up his hands and grumbled that one couldn’t win against Arthur, Arthur hid his grin behind his newspaper. For that Eames actually poked him in the side with his finger and Arthur laughed. A real laugh, where his eyes go small and his teeth and dimples showed but he couldn’t help it, as he tried to get out of Eames’ reach. When no attack followed he gave Eames an inquisitive look but Eames was staring at him, mouth slightly agape, eyes wide and full of mischief.

“What?” Arthur asked, folding the paper, suddenly stiff.

“You laugh, Arthur,” Eames stated as if that cleared up anything.

“It’s what people do when they are amused,” Arthur answered drily.

“People. Not you.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Arthur grumbled, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Eames didn’t stop grinning.

“I poked the stick and the stick started laughing, who would have thought.”

“That makes even less sense.” With that Arthur got up and put his plate away. Behind him he could hear Eames chuckling and for some reason Arthur felt his face grow hot. Not with anger, surprisingly but with… He couldn’t even put a word on it. Eames chuckling just didn’t sound condescending but fond. So fond it made him feel a little _different_.

“So, I’ll be in the office working a little on our backstory, see where we can build it around our actual lives and all, yeah?”

“Sure thing, darling.” Eames got up and passed by him, putting his plate away. “Come back out of your hole for lunch this time? We can brainstorm ideas and quiz each other after.” Eames smiled and gave his arm a light squeeze. When Arthur nodded, Eames let his hand slide down his arm before turning and leaving the room.

After spending the night curled around each other, a simple gesture like that shouldn’t have Arthur frozen at the counter as it had. The casualty with which Eames had touched him, the suddenness and tenderness of it all, had stunned him. What stunned Arthur more was how badly he had wanted to give into it.

“Holy shit,” Arthur whispered in the empty room. It took him a second more to get a grip on himself again and get to work.

***

Eames had ordered lunch from the restaurant downstairs again. He fetched Arthur around 2pm. Entering the living room, Arthur had a feeling Eames had been waiting for Arthur to come to him this time. Arthur hadn’t been consciously avoiding coming to lunch. He had just been deep into his research, comparing schedules and dates, looking where they could have had secret dates and getaways. Begrudgingly he had to admit that it was easier on his side than on Eames’. Eames really was a social butterfly and it bothered Arthur. On a strictly professional level of course.

The food was delicious but Arthur didn’t pay attention to it, as he was going over his printouts again. Eames looked at him, as if he couldn’t understand someone being so distracted from good food. He probably couldn’t. From what Arthur knew about Eames through interaction and research, Eames _savored_ things. Sometimes Arthur thought that pretentious. He had to admit though, that once or twice in one of his weaker moments, he had wondered if Eames could savor him, the way he savored a good Scotch. Slowly, with measure and intent, blooming in his pleasure.

“…have for me?” Eames voice sounded far away and Arthur realized, that he must have been staring at the papers in front of him, fork frozen in his hand for more than a minute, as his thoughts had strayed while staying so close to the subject. He cleared his throat and straightened his posture.

“I was just thinking about a scheduling error. Anyway, I figure the best way to make a lie believable is to stay as close to the truth as possible.”

“Aww, you _do_ actually listen to the things I say,” Eames cooed and then laughed when Arthur shot him a look. “Excuse me, love. Go on.”

“So, we met through work. I was on constant call to clear up your messes, which meant a lot of late nights for me and… a lot of _soul-searching_ for you.”

“And what? Spending time with you made me want to be a better man?” Eames sounded sarcastic and it hurt. Hurt in a way that went deeper than his professional pride.

“Too hard to believe? Not good enough for you?” Eames looked him straight in the eye; then he glanced away.

“Not what I meant. I just … you told Robert that we both still slept around. Doesn’t sound like me becoming a more reliable man for you.”

“Well, I guess Robert would understand that we’d like to omit that part from public record. Or we could just twist it into… us falling madly in love and knowing that we want to spend our lives together but knowing it wasn’t the time yet? Giving each other space?”

Eames nodded thoughtfully. Arthur had already gone back to his notes about dates and presents and anniversaries when Eames spoke again. “I could pull it off though. Me wanting to be a better man for the person I adore. For you. I could do that. Pull it off I mean.”

For a second time that day Arthur wasn’t sure if Eames _meant_ what he said or if he just meant what he said. In the end Arthur just nodded in acknowledgement before he started on his outline about dates that had never happened, anniversaries they had never spent, memories they had never made.

Eames was louder again, making fun and throwing in commentary and ideas. Despite how fun and productive it was, Arthur felt a kind of shadow over them. Looming. The ghost of something _more_.

***

The next days passed in a similar way. They had breakfast together, spent most of the morning apart and met up for lunch. After lunch they talked and rehearsed their back story. In a way it reminded Arthur of his time in the force. Practicing his role as fiancé with Eames was like preparing to go into deep cover like he had done back in the day when he was with the NYPD and working in narcotics. It was familiar territory and even though Arthur worked well in stress situations he preferred being prepared.

There was one important difference to how he used to get prepared with his former colleagues. Eames wouldn’t stop touching him. Nothing crass, though that was surprising in itself, but ever since that breakfast Eames was just always in his space. He leaned over Arthur’s shoulder when he was reading; Eames’ fingers lingered at his wrist when he wanted to get Arthur’s attention. When Eames found something funny he clapped him on the shoulder and his hand would rest there and give a light squeeze. They still spent the evenings on the couch and Arthur noticed how their knees would brush. One time Eames had grabbed his thigh when something exciting had happened on TV. It was unnerving and it made Arthur tense in anticipation whenever Eames was close. His heart would speed up and his stomach would squeeze and after every time something like this happened and Arthur was left a little breathless he berated himself for reacting like that. He told himself to tell Eames off. To yell at him and remind him to fucking keep his hands to himself. Only Arthur didn’t. Instead he tried to ignore his own reaction, reminding himself that it would help to get used to Eames being handsy and to react to it like it was perfectly normal.

Arthur didn’t even notice how the days went by. He checked in with Dom via text, updating him on their stories and the teams’ roles in it and to get news on press and party development. Arthur had practically forgotten that they were still under house arrest by day four until Dom reminded him in a text that it would be over within the week. Arthur let out a surprised huff when realizing that he had been so occupied and at ease at Eames’ place he hadn’t felt the need to leave.

“What’s happening, darling?” Eames asked and came up behind him, resting his hands on Arthur’s shoulders. Arthur tried to neither press back into his palms nor to go totally stiff.

“Just Dom telling me, we’ll be let out on parole by the end of the week.” Eames chuckled. The sound was rather close to Arthur’s ear and suddenly he could feel Eames breath at the side of his neck.

“I was rather enjoying our confinement but it’ll be nice get a chance to stretch one’s legs properly for a change.” Eames was still so close, Arthur could feel his warmth and his breath, smell his cologne which he had become so familiar with, he could probably pick it out at a department store.

“Yeah, but I guess Dom and the team will have some proper PR surprises for us by then. Besides, our little party is before that.”

“It is, isn’t it? Don’t worry. I’ll be the perfect fiancé by then. Madly in love and ready to shout it from the rooftops.” Eames chuckled again and with a squeeze to Arthur’s shoulders the warmth retreated and Arthur finally sunk into his chair, both relieved and disappointed to feel Eames leave.

***

That night he went to bed ahead of Eames. It was actually the norm but Arthur had noticed that no matter how much earlier he went to bed before Eames joined, he didn’t find rest.

When the other side of the bed finally dipped, Arthur pretended to sleep like all those other nights, but instead of waiting for Eames to fall asleep he instantly rolled towards him, who he could feel was hesitant but let him curl up in his embrace anyway. Arthur let out a content sigh and for a moment he thought he could feel Eames lips pressed to his hair. Arthur didn’t know what to think anymore. Reason and logic where so jumbled he couldn’t make sense of them. He couldn’t tell if they were playing anymore. He wasn’t sure how much of it was real, how much of what he felt was pretending. But in that moment it didn’t matter. He was enveloped in warmth and security and Eames was awake but still holding him, one of his broad hands stroking up and down his back, while Eames’ cheek rested against his hair. In that moment Arthur could have what he wanted. In the dark of the night while he feigned unconsciousness.

Arthur knew he was where he was supposed to be. Did it really matter if that was because of his heart’s desire or his task’s requirement?

***

By Friday Arthur was buzzing. The proximity of Eames with no way to escape was keeping him on edge. He tried not to let it show but he knew he was getting snappy, the casualness and ease of the last days slipping away from him. Eames was noticing it too but instead of giving Arthur his space, his teasing was getting sharper, less joking. He seemed fed up with Arthur and the whole situation and he put less effort than Arthur did into hiding his frustration.

Arthur wasn’t sure if their situation or Arthur himself was the cause of Eames’ frustration, just like he couldn’t really tell what the cause of his short temper exactly was. A bit of both was likely. Normally, such a vague answer wasn’t something Arthur would be satisfied with.

Ariadne and Jean had announced their coming to stock up on groceries and go over the last details for the dinner planned the night after. Arthur was fucking looking forward to anyone breaking their tense living routine.

***

It was over lunch that their backstory came up again.

“Alright then,” Eames said, leaning back in his chair, intertwining his fingers behind his head. “First date was over take-out sushi and pictures of me partying in Mombasa. At least that’s what I’ll say and you’ll roll your eyes and say that it was actually at your place. You’ll agree on the take-out sushi but stretch that there were far less photos of me in compromising positions.”

“At which point you are welcome to put on your innocent face and charm whoever asked. Correct.” Under the table Eames’ foot brushed against his calve as he crossed his leg. Eames settled more into his chair but the foot stayed pressed against Arthur’s leg. Arthur could feel the hairs rising on his arms. God, it was just a foot but at this point it felt like Eames just had to look at him to make him tense and breathless.

“You think me charming, darling? That is the most flattering thing you’ve said all day.” Arthur wanted to bite his tongue; he opted for diverting his gaze to his food and concentrating hard on anything but Eames’ presence.

“Sorry to disappoint but I was simply being observant. That is what your father pays me for after all.” It felt like a low blow and he could practically feel Eames sitting up straighter next to him. He seemed to recover quite quickly though, as the foot that had moved slightly away from his calve now pressed harder and slightly brushed up and down, too.

“Well, then it was a very complimentary observation.”

There was a moment of silence, Arthur still focused on his lunch while he felt like Eames’ gaze was burning into his skull.

“So we have the dating timeline and we know enough about character and interest to be able to fool most but, well, Robert isn’t most and neither is any celebrity reporter. What do I say when they ask me something personal? Something only a lover could know like… I don’t know if you’re a good kisser for example?”

If possible, Arthur felt his shoulders tense even more at that. How had he not seen this conservation coming? Aside from Eames making a valid point, it was Eames he was fake-engaged to.

“You tell them I’m a good kisser of course. It’s the logical answer anyway.”

“Oh come on Arthur, that’s a cop-out and everyone will know it. Specifity. Isn’t that one of your principles?” When Arthur didn’t react Eames continued. “Of course you should know about my kissing skills as well. I can tell you darling, I am the best kisser you supposedly ever kissed. I could make you come just from kissing you. I actually made people come just from kissing but I mean, look at my lips, darling.” Arthur’s head jerked up, he couldn’t help it. Eames was smiling lopsidedly, a finger touched to his plush lips and Arthur couldn’t stop the images coming to him as Eames continued talking.

“Tell them I can’t stop kissing you. That I kiss you first thing in the morning. I don’t care for morning breath even though you do but I simply can’t help myself. I start slow, my hand moving to tangle in your hair while my lips press against yours. Soft, warm. Just there, the touch of lovers. Intimate and unyielding and you always fall into it, the way I offer it to you without asking. But that’s not where it ends. You tilt your head and I follow your lead, letting you tug my lower lip between yours, waiting for you to bite at it the way I like, the way you like and it’s then that _I_ can’t help myself, opening my mouth, inviting you in. And you come. Our tongues slide together and it just goes back and forth. My tongue gliding against yours, breaking away to taste all of you, sweeping your mouth making you moan. And it’s then that things get a little headier. You are on your back and I’m lying on top of you. We need air but we can’t stop and it’s alright. We could suffocate in that moment and we’d be alright with that because my hand is still in your hair and your fingernails are pressing into my skin and you just feel so amazing and finally I break away and look into your eyes as they slowly open, dazed, unfocused and across your wet swollen lips I whisper _I love you_.”

Arthur was transfixed. He felt like his brain was short circuiting, what Eames was saying far too clear and colorful in his imagination. Eames was staring right into his eyes and for a moment he looked so very serious, so very earnest, it took Arthur’s breath away even more than his tale. The silence between them was rigid and Arthur didn’t know how to react. He just waited, unblinking, his gaze never leaving Eames’, caught and catching, as his heart felt like it was beating out of his chest and he might suffocate, wouldn’t he start breathing properly again soon.

The silence was broken abruptly as Eames started to roar with laughter.

“See? That good of a storyteller, too. But how would you kiss, my dear Arthur?”

When Arthur stood up and leaned across the table, he couldn’t say if it was Eames’ words or the seemingly light and humiliating dismissal that followed it that caused it, but suddenly one of his hands was on Eames’ shoulder and the other was cupping his face. Eames looked thrown, his eyes widening and his mouth slightly agape. He made no move to protest and so Arthur leaned closer, giving Eames’ his own little mischievous smile before he pressed their mouths together.

Arthur didn’t do soft and especially not in that moment. He kissed to bruise, biting at Eames’ plush lips and taking advantage of Eames’ still slightly parted mouth. Arthur was furious. With this, with Dom and the team and especially with Eames. He wanted Eames to feel it. To mark him and show him how he felt. Angry. Unsure. Helpless. _Recognized_ and so very confused!

Eames’ lips were as soft as they looked and he offered them to him. Arthur couldn’t help but dive deeper, clutch at Eames shoulder and enjoy what he had fantasized about for years. It could only have been seconds but it felt like hours. All of a sudden Eames moaned low and deep in the back of his throat. Another heartbeat and he started pushing back, desperation tinting how his tongue answered Arthur’s. It was Arthur’s turn to be thrown. He moved back abruptly, ending the kiss.

Eames opened his eyes slowly. He looked as dazed and shaken as he had predicted Arthur would look. Something tugged inside Arthur upon seeing Eames like that. Something hot and possessive he couldn’t deny any longer. What he wanted more than anything in that moment was to lean back in and devour Eames and everything he was. Arthur swallowed hard and before Eames could focus completely, Arthur was composed, the turmoil inside him not showing in any detail of his face.

“So that is how I kiss, _babe,_ ” he put extra emphasis on the term of endearment before pulling back completely. As if on auto-pilot Arthur turned away and left the room and went to the office. He closed the door behind himself and fell into his chair.

With shaking fingers he touched his own kiss-swollen lips. It was as if he could still taste Eames’ desperate response on his tongue. In the mirror at the wall to his right he caught a glimpse of his reflection. He looked disheveled and shocked. He was shocked. It took a lot to shock Arthur but this had done it. Both his reaction and Eames’ response. He didn’t know what to make of it but it seemed that there was something. Something big and hopeless and he had to figure it out or he would go mad and possibly take Eames with him.

***

In the living room Eames had yet to move. Part of him wanted to go after Arthur, either to hit him or to kiss him, and wasn’t that the perfect summary of the predicament they were in? Adoration and resentment, the small siblings of love and hate. Was either of those where they were headed? There seemed to be so much unsaid, so much deception wrapped around them, Eames couldn’t see clearly.

He wanted to talk to Arthur. To put it all on the table but he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know where they might go from there, no matter what either of them said.

Eames’ gaze drifted towards the high ceiling windows. It was dark outside, the lights of the city setting the room aglow. How long had he been sitting like this? The half eaten lunch didn’t appeal to him. Instead he got up and went to one of the dark wood shelves across the room.

He picked up a book at random and settled in his chair. It was an old copy of The Great Gatsby. He had read it back in boarding school. He opened the book and started reading. Gatsby had filled Nick’s house with flowers for Daisy. Such a desperate and superficial gesture. Eames laughed and continued reading. It took him a minute to realise that he had been reading the same passage over and over again.

From this book he would not learn what love was. How love worked. Maybe it didn’t. Maybe love, just as life, was circumstance, coincidence and luck. No finality, no ever-after, no manual. Just day to day survival and negotiation until someday, if you were lucky, you realised that you had spent your whole life, not in everyday happiness, but through good and bad in love. And not even your whole life. Maybe just a year, a month, a week. But maybe even that was worth it. Maybe hearts were meant to be broken. Maybe they were not meant to be or do anything but to beat and keep you alive.

Maybe thinking didn’t bring solutions. Maybe there wasn’t even a problem. Maybe there was just him and Arthur and a decision waiting to be made. A risk to be taken. A possibility to become reality.

Eames was reading the lines but they were just ink on paper, words with no meaning as long as he didn’t let them have any.

With sudden thrustfulness, Eames threw the book on the couch and got up. A couple of long strides and he was at the door that lead to the hall. His hand was on the handle, the other in his hair, tugging at his short strands.

He felt hot and cold, excited and fearful but without hesitancy. He was about to pull open the door and talk to Arthur, whatever that would entail or mean, when the doorbell rang, the sound catching him off guard, erasing any purposefulness that had enveloped his whole being just a second ago.

The doorbell rang again and from behind the door down the hall he could hear a person moving, footsteps approaching.

As if the door handle had shocked him with electricity, Eames jumped back, turning away and heading to let whoever it was in. He didn’t even check the spyhole, simply tore open the door.

“Good evening, good sir,” in front of him was Ariadne. She gave him a short salute and a wink in way of hello, while Jean behind her simply smiled.

***

It took Eames a second until he was completely himself.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. Come on in ladies. I was getting quite bored here all alone with only that _fiancé_ of mine to entertain me.” He put extra emphasis on the word fiancé and wiggled his eyebrows a little. Ariadne laughed as she and Jean passed by him. They headed both straight to the kitchen area where they dumped their bags on the counter.

“Isn’t Arthur keeping you proper company? I thought by now you would have had sex on every possible surface in your apartment.”

 _If only_ , a small traitorous voice said in his head but Eames still laughed, taking Ariadne’s teasing for what it was. Simply that.

“I think I will have to put a request for that in our prenup.” Ariadne snickered.

“I am pretty sure Arthur would contest that.” Jean spoke, her soft voice just as teasing as Ariadne’s, if a little sterner.

“I damn well would.” Eames turned on his heel. Arthur had joined them. Eames had no idea how long he had been standing in the door but he was smiling at all of them, even if he wasn’t fully meeting Eames’ eye.

“Arthur buddy!” Ariadne yelled, as she strode over to him only to draw him into a half hug before starting to berate him for not calling and talking only through Dom or that was as much as Eames understood. Arthur was smiling while rolling his eyes at her and Eames couldn’t help grinning a little as well.

As he turned away from the scene, he caught Jean staring at him. She didn’t say anything but the question was evident in her eyes. He had no idea what she had seen, but he knew Jean was just as observant as Arthur and far better at reading people. It made him uncomfortable, always getting the feeling that, while Arthur didn’t take any of his bullshit, Jean didn’t even buy any of it.

“So…” he started, not knowing what to say. This was why he tried to be with Jean as little as possible.

“You guys seem to be doing well. Far better than Dom expected.”

“You expected it then?” It already felt like an interrogation. Jean didn’t smile, her face impassive and still Eames felt like she was looking at his core.

“I expected something to happen, yes.”

“Do you think it did?”

Jean glanced towards Arthur and then back at him. “It seems like we both know what we’re talking about so in a way it already has.” She did smile then, just a slight tug around the corners of her lips but with it Eames felt relief washing over him.

It was then that Arthur and Ariadne joined them at the counter.

“What were you two chatting about?” Ariadne asked. Arthur glanced at him but otherwise simply started to unpack their bags. Jean didn’t miss a beat.

“I just told Eames, that my sister will be joining us for the dinner party tomorrow night. She’s in town and I don’t want to leave her alone for a whole evening.”

“Kim is coming with you? Awesome,” Ariadne announced. Eames couldn’t help but notice the glint in her eyes and the extra enthusiasm with which she helped Arthur unpack. He shot Jean a look but Jean was smiling, really smiling now, and so he let it drop.

***

Jean and Ariadne hadn’t brought much, just wine and champagne for the party tomorrow as well as some Korean take-out from down the street. Arthur was used to the take-out, his life had basically been one long line of deciding which take out to get or which meal to heat in the microwave, but suddenly he wondered if Eames could cook. He was getting a lot of these random thoughts these days. He tried to file them under professional interest but he had to admit that he cared too much about the answer to have it be just that.

With everything packed away the four of them had settled on the couches and seats in front of the TV. Jean had turned it on and put it to mute. With about a week between them and the engagement announcement there was no more coverage on TV, not even on Bravo or TMZ. Arthur supposed they had been lucky. The engagement only had been a contingency plan. He knew that while he was under house arrest with Eames the rest of the team and Saito would have worked day and night on getting any possible charges dropped and any witness paid off and proof destroyed. They had done one hell of a job as it seemed.

Arthur still knew that their fake engagement worked especially in the favor of Saito though, so it wouldn’t be called off quite that soon. Even more reason to make tomorrow work and then to hopefully split up in a week or two, Eames heading out _somewhere_ so Arthur would be alright to get back to his apartment. The thought filled him with equal parts dread and relief.

“The guest list is done – well it wasn’t long anyway, enough people to make sure Robert can’t target you alone. It’s basically the team, my sister, Mal’s parents, Robert and your friend Yusuf.”

“It’s actually kind of hilarious that you invited the guy I bought hookers for to my fake engagement party.” Eames snickered but Jean didn’t falter.

“Saito won’t attend but that is mostly to make Robert feel less defiant. Arthur told us that he is projecting his negative relationship with his father on your relationship with Saito.” Jean looked up from her notes and Eames nodded in consent.

“We ordered canapés, the usual stuff for that kind of thing, and we Dom will bartend in order to make the whole thing more intimate. We don’t want outsiders to be present so we can better control what of that evening leeks.”

Arthur was only listening with half an ear. They had done this a thousand times. He still focused on Jean, his eyes drifting to Ariadne from time to time, but never to Eames. He couldn’t look at him right now, still shaken because of the kiss. Eames seemingly didn’t have the same problem. Arthur could feel his gaze on him throughout the meeting.

“Can I talk to you for a sec, Ariadne?” He had spoken without really meaning to. All eyes were on him and only now he realized he had been quieter than usual. “I just have some extra data I wanted to run by you. Legal stuff.” He added quickly. Everyone else was still staring but Arthur simply got up, his features impassive.

“Yeah, sure.” He heard Ariadne saying behind him before she followed.

The hall and office were just as silent as the living room, but without three people staring at him it was a lot less uncomfortable. Arthur went to his computer and opened a random file. He leaned over his desk, hands pressed to the cold wood, his eyes unseeing of the text he read, as he heard Ariadne enter and close the door, he didn’t look up.

“That was some lame excuse, dude,” Ariadne admonished. She didn’t say anything else. When Arthur finally turned she was leaning against the door, hands in her jeans’ pockets. Her hair was open, as always, and her head was titled. He could see how curious she was, but she had also known over the past years that often it was easier to let Arthur find the moment to talk, at least when he had already declared his need to.

“I kissed Eames.” He sounded incredulous to his own ears, like he still couldn’t believe it. Ariadne’s eyes went wide and she actually seemed to sink further into the door before she jumped in motion, crossing the room to get to him. She grabbed his shoulders.

“That is… fuck, Arthur,” she sounded thrilled. It took her a second to grasp how Arthur didn’t seem excited. “But hey wait, how isn’t that a good thing? How aren’t you two having sex all over the place? I mean I was joking earlier only I kinda really wasn’t joking at all.”

“I don’t know what to do, Ari,” Arthur admitted. He sank to the edge of his desk, her hands still clutching at his shoulders. It felt grounding. Ariadne always made him feel safe.  She was looking at him, her eyes darting all over his face, like she was trying to understand what had happened just from looking at him.

“Tell me what happened.”

Arthur took a deep shuddering breath. It was hilarious how he felt like breaking down in that moment. It felt like he had been wound tight over the last week and could finally let it go.

“He was just teasing me and then he was being an asshole and then I kissed him.”

Ariadne laughed. “You are into some weird stuff then, dude.” She sobered up quickly especially as Arthur didn’t even smile. “That’s not the whole story. Come on.” Arthur closed his eyes and Ariadne squeezed his shoulders again before stepping back, giving him space.

“I don’t know what to say. I am just confused.” He let that confession hang in the air until Ariadne commented. “But you don’t get confused, ever. Like maybe a little surprised or uncertain but stuff doesn’t confuse you. You always know what you want or need.”

“That’s the thing, Ariadne, I don’t. Not now, not with Eames. There is just so much and it’s twisted and I can’t make sense of it. Like, somehow, yes I want him. But I don’t know to what extent. I want to fuck him alright? Every time he teases me, or gives me that infuriating smirk I just want to grab him and press him against the next wall. I want to kiss him until he can’t smirk anymore. But I also sometimes want other stuff. I like how he holds me when he thinks I’m sleeping and it’s fun to argue with him over the news or watch him watching a movie. I feel things when he comes to bring me coffee when I work and then he goes and does something and I just want to leave, Ari. How should I make sense of this? And then there is the addition of me not knowing what is for real and what is for show? I don’t even know what my facts are because everything’s a mess.”

Arthur hadn’t noticed that he had left his spot on the desk to pace the room. Now he was standing in the middle of the room, hands raised and panting. He was just glad that he didn’t tend to shout but rather hiss when he got agitated. Otherwise he would have likely been heard in the living room.

 Ariadne looked stunned.

“Wow,” she finally settled on. Arthur felt like laughing at that.

“I guess.”

“No, like, really, wow. I don’t know how to tell you this Arthur, but you might actually be falling for your fake-fiancé. Or let’s say have fallen. That’s more likely it.”

“I know.” And hadn’t he already? Arthur wasn’t stupid. He also wasn’t emotionally stunted. If possible, he just really liked to ignore uncomfortable personal affairs.

He sank back onto his desk.

“If you knew, then why that whole speech?”

“I guess I just needed to talk to someone. And even if I know what I feel, that doesn’t make it clearer as to what’s going on and what I am to do. Eames is an asshole. He might be an attractive, smart and kind of adorable asshole but he still is one. I don’t know if I can put my heart on the line for that.”

Ariadne smiled at that, the lines around her eyes indicating pity. She sat down next to him and took his hand.

“What did he do when you kissed him?”

“He kissed me back. It felt… important.” Her other hand came to frame his.

“Arthur, we all gamble when we love. We set our heart on the line and can just hope to win. Eames is a gambler, but the same rules apply. Even to him. You can just hope that losing your heart actually means winning one in return.”

There was a lump in his throat. It was hard to swallow around it. “So, you think I should talk to him?”

“I think it might be worth it. I know you don’t love easily. It’s because you don’t trust people with yourself. It sounds like you want to trust him. So, do.”

***

The two women left soon after Arthur and Ariadne had returned to the living room, Jean announcing that she wanted to get back to her sister as soon as possible. The silence they left upon their departure was deafening.

Arthur wanted to talk to Eames, but he felt like he needed to get his thoughts straight first. He didn’t like going into a conversation and making it up as he went along. He wanted to be sure of what he’d say.

Besides, he wasn’t sure if laying it all out wouldn’t be a bad idea before the big event tomorrow night. Then again, the way they were around each other right then might be even worse.

Arthur was sitting on the couch going over notes, not really seeing them, when he noticed a book between the cushions. He retracted it and looked at the cover. It was an old but very nice edition of the Great Gatsby.

“You read that earlier?” he asked unthinkingly. There was a moment where Arthur wasn’t sure if Eames would answer. He glanced up just as Eames looked away, focusing back on the mute TV.

“I did. Just something I picked up.”

“You like it though?” Arthur pressed. Eames nodded.

For a minute Eames didn’t say anything else then, “It’s a good book. I like the writing and I particularly enjoyed weirding my teachers out with my insistence on homosexual subtext in the book.” He winked at Arthur and Arthur could feel the knot in his stomach loosening. “I can’t say that I have too much love for any of the characters. But I don’t think that’s the point of it anyway…”

Arthur looked at the cover again and then smiled at Eames, who smiled back, tentatively. When Arthur placed the book on the coffee table, the TV came back to life, some news anchor talking about a congressman who had been accused of bribery and adultery.

Eames had unmuted the TV and was now looking concentrated at the news. He didn’t seem to be inclined to move or switch the channel so Arthur simply leaned back and tried to enjoy the silence.

He didn’t for long, the day getting the better of him. His eyes started to drop closed.

“I think I’m turning in for the night,” he finally announced. Eames only glimpsed at him.

“You go. I’m not tired yet.”

Arthur simply nodded and smiled, too tired to be all careful and passive. He went about his nightly routine, nearly falling asleep while brushing his teeth.

The bed was cold when he slipped under the covers but the thought of Eames coming soon and warming it up with him, made him sigh in content.

He fell asleep with Eames’ embrace on his mind, even though he could still hear the TV from the living room, where Eames was still firmly seated in his chair.

***

The next day was hectic and that was understating things. Mal and Ariadne arrived before noon and had been preparing the apartment and its inhabitants for the big night. It gave Arthur no time to talk to Eames in private, though he still didn’t know what to say anyway.

It seemed like things had gotten even more twisted since the day before. Eames hadn’t come to bed last night. Arthur had slept fitfully, but without waking up. Only in the morning when he had found the other side of the bed empty and then when he had gone to the living room, finding Eames asleep on his  lounge chair in just a t-shirt and boxer briefs, a woolen blanket tucked around him, did he realize that Eames had never attempted to join him.

Arthur was more hurt by that than he cared to admit, his confusion skyrocketing with his pain. He had gone to the bathroom quietly and not said anything about it. Eames on the other hand was awfully polite. No jabs, no teasing, no double entendres. It made Arthur more uncomfortable than Eames usual behavior, a discomfort that made his skin crawl with how wrong it was, not his heart stutter and his neck heat.

There wasn’t much time to indulge in his worries though. Mal and Ariadne kept him busy, even though most of their prep work felt redundant after the week spent with Eames. Eames was quiet, answering whatever they wanted to know and helping to arrange furniture. Arthur thought they were overdoing it. He had the serious feeling like they were putting too much thought into the whole thing. It was likely that their expectations of scandal and public interest had been so thoroughly underwhelmed that they didn’t know where to put their energy.

As matters stood, Arthur wasn’t sure if they even needed any planned public appearances. Some twitter pics of strolls in the park and maybe another statement by Saito that the date for the marriage was still undetermined and unless the blogosphere got too invested and curious they would be okay, Saito’s image safe and Eames thoroughly pretend-engaged. 

The only question for Arthur was, if those pictures would be photo ops.

***

The caterer came around five, setting up in the kitchen and leaving soon after. Ariadne and Mal were still talking about anecdotes that the team would know about his and Arthur’s life together. The longer this went on, the stronger the taste of bile in Eames’ mouth got whenever people referred to his and Arthur’s lives as one.

He was glad that Arthur had insisted on a casual get-together. It wasn’t just easier to navigate but also a lot more comfortable, especially now that Eames felt the urge to be close to Arthur all the time and simultaneously thought it would be a horrible idea. People always said that knowledge was better than ignorance, but Eames was at a point where he’d agreed with anyone who said that ignorance was bliss.

Arthur was simply sitting at the kitchen counter, observing Mal and Ariadne talking. He only hesitated for a moment, before he strolled over to him and came to lean against the counter next to him.

“You alright?” he asked. Arthur’s gaze didn’t stray but he ever so slightly leaned towards him, head inclined as if to hear him better.

“Sure. We’ll be fine.”

Eames nodded, his gaze following Arthur’s to look at the two women.

Maybe they simply would be fine. It was a nice thought.

***

Once the guests arrived Arthur stuck to his side as they greeted whoever came. Eames knew them all already, except for Jean’s sister. Kim was a pretty young woman. You could see the family resemblance, even with a good twenty years between the two sisters. It was in the eyes, the same spark, if less guarded in Kim’s eyes, and in the mouth, the same smile.

“It’s so great to meet you!” She went straight for a hug, startling Arthur completely. Eames laughed and went rather willingly, bending down a little. After that Ariadne tugged her away instantly, wrapping her in conversation. Kim looked rather delighted.

“Well, there’s something going on,” Eames whispered towards Arthur, who smiled and nodded.

Yusuf was already there and seemingly getting along splendidly with Dom. They were both their own band of crazy, Eames supposed.

Jean had gone to talk to Mal and her parents. Robert was the only one still to arrive.

“We might just pull that off.” Arthur was still standing close to him, his voice just a whisper as he leant back into his space. Eames chuckled. “And you get that from acting five minutes in front of people who are mostly all in the know?”

“Don’t steal my thunder,” Arthur chided. His smile was teasing and there was a certain touch to it. It was playful, maybe even a little seductive. It took Eames’ breath away, made him feel light headed and bold. Eames let his hand find Arthur’s waist, splaying his fingers before he pulled Arthur close, his arm gliding to hold him fast against his chest.

“Maybe we should just step up our game then, darling.” His breath caught against Arthur’s ear. He could feel the hitch in Arthur’s breathing. Slowly Arthur turned his head. He stayed in Eames grasp but their eyes met. Arthur looked serious but Eames felt like he could see so much more in his eyes. Uncertainty, wonder. Shock? Maybe this wasn’t just a game for Arthur as well after all.

They were so captured by each other’s gazes, that they didn’t hear the bell ring, nor Ariadne open the door. It was only when someone cleared their throat close to them that they broke away. Eames’ arm stayed where it was.

“Well, looks like you two are rarely able to untangle from each other,” Robert’s voice was soft, as was his smile. Neither was reflected in his eyes.

Eames still managed a self-deprecating laugh. “Ah well, I am just glad I don’t have to keep my hands to myself when with company now.” The joke didn’t seem to appease Robert. If anything he got even tenser.

“I bought you a bottle of wine. I thought that would be appropriate.”

“Yes, thank you. That’s very thoughtful of you, Robert,” Arthur said quickly, taking the bottle from Robert and untangling himself (reluctantly) from Eames. “I assume you don’t know most people here? Let me introduce you.”

With that and a stern look at Eames, Arthur took off to introduce Robert, handing the bottle to Eames.

Eames shook his head in amusement before heading to the kitchen area.

***

This was actually going better than expected. After introducing Robert to everyone, his friends had taken turns talking to him, engaging in small talk and ever so often dropping thoughts and stories about Arthur and Eames. They sounded so very genuine and natural – it was kind of amazing what good con men and women his colleagues were, and those not in the know where so genuinely pleased for both of them, Arthur had no idea how Robert would be able to smell bullshit in any way.

Eames on the other hand played his part well, too. Ever so often he would casually stroll over to Arthur and offer to fill his glass or simply come to stand next to him, his hand on Arthur’s waist a warm weight that burnt through Arthur’s shirt into his skin. Eames would lean close and whisper something into his ear, or simply join the conversation Arthur was currently having. One time he even pulled Arthur against his chest and gave him a fleeting kiss on the cheek, making Kim and Ariadne cheer, than glance at each other and blush. Eames had hid his grin into Arthur’s neck. Arthur might have leaned into the stubble scratching his skin.

Even when talking to the other guests, Arthur tried to keep an ear on Robert’s conversations. He was very polite, if a little reserved but talking eloquently and listening intently as well as asking a lot. None of the answers and stories seemed to appease him though. He mostly only smiled cordially.

He was just talking to Mal, who looked stunning as always, even dressed down in skinny blue jeans, heels and a red blouse, a perfect match to her lipstick, when Arthur realized what bugged him about Robert’s questions.

He interrupted whatever Mal was just telling him about James’ first attempts at walking in his mother’s shoes and calling Jean and waving her over quickly.

“What is it, Arthur?” Jean questioned, clearly alarmed, Mal looked just as curious, her smile just as friendly as before for the sake of appearance but her eyes questioning.

“I think Robert isn’t curious about if Eames and I are for real. As far as I heard he only asks about the extent and seriousness about us being together. Every time Eames touches me, I feel like he might want to strangle me. Until now I just didn’t understand what that look meant. Can you confirm?”

Jean nodded simply. “I’ll go talk to him some more and maybe tell Eames to escalate things if necessary.”

 “Well, I am sure he would love that, no?” Mal giggled before taking a sip from her champagne. Jean actually smiled too, before she excused herself with a nod, her blue floral printed silk dress shifting with every move.

It wasn’t until later that Jean found him again. By the time most people had settled in the sitting area, on one of the big couches or were at least standing close. The canapés were mostly eaten and they had opened the nth bottle of wine and champagne, Dom making good on his promise to bartend to anyone in need of a proper drink. The atmosphere was loose and comfortable; most of the people present seemingly having forgotten that this was supposed to be a serious affair.

Ariadne and Kim were occupying a corner of the big couch. Kim’s heeled boots were discarded on the floor, her feet tangled with Ariadne’s legs, as they spoke intently. Dom and Mal were occupying the lounge chair, Mal on Dom’s lap, their hands playing with each other, her head on his shoulder as she was telling him something. Dom was smiling, as was Mal.

Yusuf on the other hand was animatedly talking to Mal’s parents who listened with wide eyes.

Finally, Arthur found Eames’ gaze. Eames was leaning against one of his book shelves, Robert was standing beside him, close, too close for Arthur’s liking. He seemed to be talking insistently to Eames, who only smiled from time to time giving obviously short answeres. Robert didn’t seem satisfied, his eyes not straying from Eames’ face who only glanced at him occasionally. He seemed as relaxed as everyone else, but there was something in the set of his shoulders and the way he had crossed his arms over his chest that told Arthur otherwise.

“What did you find?” Arthur finally asked Jean. She raised her head from inspecting the remains of her Scotch.

“He’s in love with Eames. He doesn’t care for you. He only wanted to know how serious you were. If you were serious at all. I think he just wanted us to dish dirt. He didn’t like our lovey dovey stories.”

“Huh,” Arthur let out a huff. He didn’t know if a jilted ex-lover was worse or better than a suspicious one. “You think that means trouble?”

“It might if he weren’t so deep in the closet. It would be sad if it weren’t so handy.” Arthur shot her a look.

“What? Only because I know it benefits us, doesn’t mean I can’t have sympathy for him.” She shrugged, looking at him from the corner of her eyes before focusing back on Eames and Robert.

“Care to escalate things?”

“What did you have in mind?” Arthur was quite suspicious. Jean drank the last of her drink.

“I’ll leave that to Eames.” Arthur only had enough time to watch Jean giving Eames a stern nod before getting up and crossing the room, before Eames already plunged down next to him.

On the other side of the room Arthur caught a glimpse of Robert standing alone and looking perfectly sour before a broad hand caught his chin and then soft, warm, wonderful lips pressed against his.

It was so sudden, so surprising, so welcome, Arthur couldn’t do anything but react on instinct. His eyes closed and his hands came up automatically, gliding over Eames’ shoulder, one coming to grab the fabric of his shirt, the other carding through the short hairs at the back of his neck. Arthur fell into the kiss, leaning in, pressing back. He could feel Eames sighing into the kiss, tilting his head and catching his lips for real. It felt amazing, Arthur not able to concentrate on anything but the sensation of Eames’ lips against his, Eames’ hot skin against his palms, Eames’ breath against his face. Their lips moved together and Arthur knew where this would go, if nothing stopped them. This was so very different from their first kiss. No desperation, just uncertainty and reverence, hesitant but sweet.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Arthur heard Robert cursing from far away, Eames pulling back just as he did. For a moment he felt disorientated before the room full of people came back into focus.

Everyone looked rather stunned, if for different reasons. Mal’s parents, Yusuf and Kim all stared at Robert, while his team all stared at them, all showing different levels of shock and delight. Arthur focused on Robert though who seemingly wasn’t done.

“I mean it: are you fucking kidding me, Eames?” he sounded furious, reminding Arthur all too well of their first meeting.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Eames on the other hand sounded rather breathless. It made Arthur feel giddy, a rather unfamiliar feeling for him.

“All of this. It’s just… it’s just not fair. How can this low life of an ex cop just waltz in here like that? Come on Eames, cut the crap. This is not your scene.”

Ariadne had interjected with an offended _Hey!_ at the remark of Arthur being a low life, a glace from Eames had silenced her though.

“What the fuck is your deal, Robert?” Robert seemed to falter a little at the sound of Eames’ voice, not less furious than his. Finally he only stepped closer.

“My fucking deal is that this is a joke. He’s fucking scum, okay? You know better than this. How is he ever supposed to make you happy? He knows nothing. He understands nothing.”

Eames got to his feet and moved towards Robert. Robert looked surprised but he stood his ground, his chin held high, defiant. Arthur couldn’t do much but watch, the others seemed equally frozen in place.

“Do not ever talk about him like that again, alright mate? He’s everything. I don’t need you to understand that but you’ll have to accept it,” Eames voice was sharp as a blade, his English accent thickening. Then there was a shift, Eames posture relaxing a little. When he spoke again his voice was softer, a deep understanding clinging to each and every word. “I don’t want to cast you away, Robert, but I will if you can’t deal with this. I don’t want to lose a friend here.”

Robert looked small and very young for a long moment. His eyes were fixed on Eames’ face. For a second they strayed over Eames’ shoulder catching Arthur’s gaze. His features hardened.

“We were never friends, Eames.” It seemed to be an attack at Arthur but Arthur felt no pain, just pity.

“Then I’ll have to ask you to leave. I’m sorry, Robert.” Eames sounded so very sorry, Arthur felt the urge to get up and hug him. He refrained, at least for the time being, until Robert had seemingly collected himself, given a curt nod to the assembled guests and made his way for the exit.

Only then did Arthur get up slowly. He put a tentative hand on Eames’ shoulder, who shuddered before leaning into the touch. He didn’t look at Arthur.

“I think it’s time to call it a night,” that was Jean’s voice from behind. Arthur turned and nodded, giving the crowd an apologetic smile.

“It was nice from all of you to come but I think Jean’s right.” Eames excused himself from the room waving to their guests before heading towards the bedroom. It was left to Arthur to show everyone out. The team seemed to want to hang back but Arthur shook his head. Ariadne ushered a very confused Kim out of the door, while Mal’s parents seemed to be rather glad to leave. Mal’s mother didn’t leave without giving Arthur a tight hug and some reassuring words about “everyone having a past.” It made Arthur smile.

In the end Dom was the last to leave, Mal waiting for him by the door.

“So, you’ll be okay?” He squinted his eyes, as he always did when he was being serious or trying to figure something out. It made Arthur smile. Dom was often rather unthinking of other people’s needs but he was there when it counted.

“I rather think I’ll be,” he was surprised to realize he did believe that.

“You do know that his wasn’t acted right? No one is that good. Eames is not the type to wreck a friendship over a charade.”

“I do believe he might be but you’re right. That wasn’t an act.” They had reached the door and before Dom could say anything else, Arthur wished them a safe trip home and closed the door into their faces.

With the door shut between him and the leaving guests, the apartment suddenly felt huge and silent. Still, Arthur didn’t linger, feeling pulled towards the bedroom. He still wasn’t sure what to say but maybe he didn’t need a speech. Maybe he just had to trust his gut over his head for a moment

Eames was sitting on their bed, elbows on his knees, face in hands. He only looked up once he heard Arthur enter. He looked positively distraught.

“I really do like him, you know?” Eames said and Arthur understood. “I know. It’s okay. You’ll be fine.” Arthur reassured him, crossing over to Eames. Eames had to look up to him. Arthur rather enjoyed the view.

Slowly Arthur reached out his hands until he was touching Eames’ wrists. He took both of them into a grip. Just as slowly Arthur started to push, until Eames was lying flat on the bed.

Arthur gave Eames all the time in the world to say something; to make him stop but Eames’ eyes were wide open, searching his face while his breathing sped up. When Eames didn’t protest, Arthur settled across Eames’ lap. By now Eames’ body against his wasn’t an unfamiliar sensation but this still felt new, intentional and with it so much more meaningful.

Eames’ thighs were strong and warm where Arthur pressed his own against them. He gave Eames another moment, his wrists still encircled by Arthur’s hands, before he bent down and touched his lips to Eames’.

It was a mirror of their earlier kiss, tentative and soft but this time there was no one to interrupt no one to interject and so the kiss became deeper quickly. Arthur could feel Eames pliant and responsive underneath him, so different now from the man who teased and enraged them from a day to day basis, and despite the difference it felt so real, so right.

Arthur could feel Eames lips moving against his, hear the little moans in the back of his throat, Eames’ thighs tensing and relaxing constantly.

When the tightness in his pants became more evident, the urge to open Eames’ mouth with his tongue and devour him too much to bear before caving to it, Arthur pulled back.

It took a moment before Eames opened his eyes. Arthur waited until his eyes were focused on his.

“Tell me you don’t want to pretend anymore either,” Arthur whispered across Eames’ wet mouth, voice quiet but insistent.

“Oh, darling,” Eames rasped and surged upwards. And maybe that was enough for the moment. Everything else would come after. Tomorrow morning, next week, the month that followed. They would find their way. Eames had the imagination and Arthur the determination. They would make it work.

Now there was time for Arthur to let his tongue lick across Eames’ soft lips, tracing their form with devotion before dipping into Eames’ mouth, swallowing the sounds he made, until there was no air left between them. Arthur pulled back. He wanted to feel more. Feel everything.

There was no finesse to how they stripped out of their clothes and for once Arthur could not have cared less for the mess, when he finally had Eames naked against the headboard. Eames pulled him in, his hands caressing down his back, framing his ass, just as Arthur went down for another kiss.

They slid together, bodies touching everywhere, finally feeling each other to the point of overstimulation, their cocks pumping against each other and losing contact again which was okay, too. Both of them were too enthralled by simply having come so far to care for getting off as fast as possible.

Eames splayed his legs wide, inviting Arthur to settle between them and Arthur went willingly, his lips trailing down Eames’ neck to finally lick and kiss at his tattoos.

“Arthur, darling.” Eames was panting above him, his words both plea and encouragement, as his hand had found its way into Arthur’s hair, pressing his lips closer to his skin. Arthur rewarded him by biting and sucking a hickey into the inked skin. Above him Eames moaned, his hips starting to cant upwards more frantically.

The friction was too dry, the precum not making it smooth enough but Arthur didn’t care. For maybe the first time in his life, he didn’t care for sex to end with the most satisfying coitus in the shortest amount of time. No, he felt like he had waited for this all his life and now he wanted to taste it, draw it out, make it last. He wanted to explore every inch of Eames, look deep and pull him apart.

What they did wasn’t perfect, they had too much to still find out about the other, but it was exciting and Arthur thought he might get addicted to it. Addicted to finding out more. They had all the time in the world to do so.

It took them some time to find a rhythm. Finally, Arthur let Eames lick his palm, the salvia making the glide far easier as Arthur wrapped his hand around both their cocks. Both men let out a deep groan and then Eames hands were back in his hair, drawing him in, kissing him deep until they could do nothing more but pant into each other’s mouths, nearing completion.

Arthur was fucking his own hand and against Eames’ cock. He could feel his orgasm nearing but he wanted Eames to come first and he wanted to watch. Eames’ head was thrown back, even though his hands were still tangled in Arthur’s hair. Swiftly and without faltering in his fucking, Arthur leaned down and bit one of Eames’ nipples hard. Eames yelped in surprise, surprise turning into pain and then pleasure and then Arthur felt the wetness spurting from his cock. Eames had gone silent, his eyes shut tight and his mouth open, no moans left in him, simply erratically trying to take in air.

Arthur grinned. He started fucking his hand faster, nearing his own orgasm. Just as his orgasm hit him, Arthur leaned down to bite at Eames’ other nipple. Eames gave another deep moan, the hands in Arthur’s hair tightening.

Arthur only stopped when he felt himself starting to fall into the post orgasm haze, too intent to kiss Eames again to rest on his chest.

Eames’ response to his kiss was just as hazy as Arthur’s attempt. Eventually, they just rested their foreheads together, Arthur coming to rest lying half on top of Eames, not caring for the mess between them.

Eames arms came to wrap around him.

“I don’t want to pretend anymore either, darling,” Eames whispered and Arthur smiled.

They would be fine.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was one hell of a thing to pull off! In the beginning you always think you have all the time in the world but then time flys by. On that note, there was more I wanted to write and hopefully I will. The art is not finished yet either, so I hope you hope that there'll be more. There's also very likely going to be a fanmix with beautiful cover art.
> 
> Right now I have to thank my beta who has worked just as much as I have this week. I love you, itsy. Also as she is not part of the Inception fandom even more kudos and thanks to her for supporting me and loving this story. It wouldn't have been finished in time if at all without her!
> 
> And to you thanks for reading until here. You are a miracle and the reason I write. At least one of them ;) an important one for sure!


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